Take Me With You
by clandestin273
Summary: Another "what if" story about a teenage Marian Hawke meeting an escapee Anders. Short and sweet. Chubby teenybopper Carver's also involved.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Okay, so this is just a little thing I've been writing in my downtime at my summer job. I just felt like writing my spin on one of those Hawke meets Anders back in Ferelden sort of stories. To anyone who follows my other, more serious story "Shelter," don't worry-I'm still working on it. This is just a side thing for fun.

I picture Marian being like 17/18ish with Carver around 12/13, and Anders like 21/22. Hopefully I wrote Carver alright. I think he's hilarious in his own way, but like Aveline says-he's a bit of a tit. Also, can you not totally see Carver being as chubby, angry little boy who later just dedicates his teen years to getting buff so no one pisses him off? XD I see Marian as being a bit apathetic. It's not up to her to keep the family together yet, so she can get away with being the mean hormonal older sister for now. But for the most part I picture her cheeky and warm-hearted.

But whatever, here's the first part!

* * *

Hawke

"I bet that I'll get something before you!" The pudgy adolescent pushed past his older sister at the mouth of the woods outside of Lothering, sword already drawn. "How much do you want to bet?"

A few panicked birds fled from their nests in the bushes and flew alarmingly close to Marian Hawke's head. She yelped and ducked, nearly dropping her bow. _Patience, Marian. Do not kill your brother,_ she thought in her mother's voice.

"Sure Carver. You're the greatest hunter around," she replied with an eye roll, pushing her now frazzled ebony hair out of her face. "Good luck chasing a deer around with a sword."

"Well I'm not about to use a _bow_," he replied. The boy rolled his blue eyes. "Those are for elves and women."

"Well _you_," Marian said, grabbing one of his chubby cheeks, "are not going to hunt our supper tonight, baby brother."

Carver scowled and batted her hand away. "Watch me."

Marian laughed and strode ahead down the path. "Lighten up, Carver. And hurry, poor Beth's probably dying of boredom in her healing lesson. The sooner we get supper the better."

The eldest Hawke child liked the woods. No matter what village they traveled to, there was always a forest nearby. They'd camped in dozens of them while roaming around Ferelden to avoid the templars and though one might be more thick with trees or another might have a stream or more exotic plants, some things were a constant. She'd grown fond of the sound of wind whispering through the trees and the crinkle of leaves beneath her feet.

Their father had been teaching her how to disappear into the treetops and how to aim a bow. But now that the twins were older he spent his downtime teaching Bethany magic and it was Marian who was tasked with teaching Carver to hunt, much to the boy's chagrin.

Carver complained throughout their mile walk into the wilderness until they finally approached a grove. Marian paused, listening for the sound of deer walking gingerly nearby or rabbits diving into the underbrush, however carver trampled on.

"Ugh!" He exclaimed, lifting his boot up for inspection. He'd stepped in a pile of brown pellets. "Andraste's flaming—" The boy smeared the offense turds onto the grass. "Bleh."

Marian had to fight a smile. "Well, at least we know there are deer here somewhere."

Carver grunted. "What now?"

The girl was already hoisting herself onto a low branch of a nearby tree. "Now we wait."

Marian straddled a thick branch a few feet higher up and eased back so she was leaning against the trunk. She moved her bow onto her lap and relaxed, keeping one eye on Carver below while listening for anything around.

The boy first leaned against the base of the tree, arms crossed over his chest like a miniature guard standing outside a castle. However he soon abandoned that stance in favor of pacing only a few moments later—carefully looking down at where he stepped, Marian noted.

When watching her brother became boring, the girl allowed herself to close her eyes for a bit. Malcolm had always warned her to be completely aware while hunting but she'd been up late last night practicing archery in the cornfield when everyone had gone to sleep and had to suppress a yawn. She knew her mother had sights on her growing out her hair out and ceasing the bow practice, wanting her to marry one of the farm boys in town or to even travel to Kirkwall to salvage her maiden name and take up with one of the noblemen there. However Marian had other plans.

She imagined fighting for justice in the King's Army or sailing to Antiva to join the Crows-or maybe just to get lost in the crowd. Maybe she could travel to Orlais and try to make pants fashionable for women. _No, boring._ What about Orzammar? That was basically a different country. _What would mother say if I found a husband there?_ She imagined the look on Leandra's face when she brought her dwarven husband home and nearly fell out of her tree.

Marian was fully immersed in her daydreams when she realized that she hadn't heard from her brother in a while. _Maybe he finally settled down,_ she thought. _Thank the Mak—_

_**THWACK!**_

Marian nearly jumped out of her skin. The girl grabbed onto her tree branch for support. Her bow slid from her lap and toppled onto the dirt below. "Carver!"

_**THWACK!**_

The young boy was chopping at a dead tree with his sword. "What?"

"You're going to scare every animal in this forest away!" Marian exclaimed. "Stop!"

_**THWACK!**_

"What I hunt won't be scared away by a little noise, Marian," he replied haughtily, pushing out his meaty chest.

"Ugh." The girl began making her way down from her spot in the tree, nearly toppling backwards halfway down. "I don't care what father and mother say, next time you're staying home with Beth." Actually, poor Beth had it bad enough as a mage. Sticking her with her twin all day seemed like a punishment.

"Next time _you_ stay home with Beth, and father and I will hunt."

**_THWACK!_**

Marian snatched her bow up from the ground with a wince. "Oho, no. Next time father, Bethany, and I will hunt and _you_ can learn to sew with mother."

The boy snorted. "I'd probably be better at it than you."

Marian put a hand on her hip. "Really? That's your big insult?"

Carver scowled again and lifted his sword to hit the battered old tree once more.

"Don't," Marian growled.

He smirked this time and raised his eyebrows, moving the blade a bit closer to the tree.

"Andraste's flaming ass, I swear I'll-"

Carver was about to swing at the tree when a crash echoed through the grove. The sound of breaking twigs and crunching leaves followed it. Something big was moving in the forest through the distance. And it was getting louder. Much louder than a small animal. Was it wolves? Bandits?

The Hawkes froze and Marian shuddered. "Carver, please tell me you can climb a tree."

"Uh…" the boy stared up doubtfully at the gargantuan tree his sister had just climbed out of.

"Come on!" Marian dug her boots into the bark and curved her long fingers around the lowest branch. After hoisting herself up she bent and extended her hands to Carver. He reached out with sweaty palms and clung onto hers with an iron grip. The weight of the boy nearly sent Marian sprawling onto the ground, but she grunted and pulled harder.

"Pull!"

"I'm trying!" she exclaimed. "Gah! You need to stop eating chocolates in bed at night!"

"I don't do that! Did Beth say I do that?"

"Carver, I can hear you munching on it from the other side of the room!"

Whatever was running through the brush was almost upon them. Marian could hear it panting even over the sound of her own strained breaths. She desperately tried to pull her brother onto the branch but his fingers were slipping from her grasp. _Maker, forget every nasty thing I've ever said about Carver. I'll give him my dessert for the rest of my life-Fade, I'll even let him win every time we spar if you can just save him from being mauled by a wild animal. Please._

"Marian!" One hand slipped from hers and the boy frantically began grabbing for grooves in the trunk but found none. Finally Carver grunted and let go, falling to the ground with an oomph. "That's it," he grumbled. Marian watched in horror as he drew his sword. _Please don't do what I think you're going to do..._

With a small battle cry, the boy raised the weapon and rushed forward toward the noise.

"Carver, no!" Marian shrieked.

* * *

Hmmmm. Who/what could possibly be coming out of the bushes? -_- lololll. If you like it please follow/comment/whatevs! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews and follows guys! Hope you like chapter 2! :) I was gonna put out the next chapter of my other story Shelter tonight but I've actually gotta zoom over to the doctor's because my boyfriend thinks life is a video game and that he could jump off a roof unscathed. -_- lol. But I promise it will be out soon!

* * *

Anders

Anders took in a deep breath of morning air. _Freedom._

He'd only allowed himself an hour or two of sleep and his back ached from setting up camp in a tree, but nothing could tarnish this morning. It was the longest he'd been out of the tour since a piss poor escape attempt last year. He'd headed straight for Denerim, imagining losing his templar pursuers amongst a sea of people. As it turned out, it was a popular idea for escapees because the templars found him on a path alongside the main route to the capitol before he'd been gone a whole day.

This marked day two of his journey, and the mage was buzzing with excitement and anxiety.

Anders stretched and climbed down from the tree, heading deeper into the woods. Hopefully he'd encounter a berry bush soon because he was starving. He very well couldn't hunt anything with what little he had in his pockets. _Next time I'll have to steal a knife from the kitchens_, he noted. If there was a next time.

_Maybe they won't find me_, he thought. _Maybe I'll never go back to that Maker forsaken tower._ Then his thoughts turned dark. _Or maybe I will and Greagoir will finally kill me or turn me Tranquil…_

"Better make the most of it then," he announced aloud.

It was hours before he broke through the woods and spotted a town in the distance. The smell of cow shit and wet dog filled his nostrils with the sight of it. _Ah, Ferelden._ He dug in the pockets of his tattered blue Circle robe and found a folded map he'd filched from a book in the library. Was it Redcliffe? No, no he would have reached it already. Besides, there were no red cliffs in sight…This had to be Lothering.

"Creepy name," he mumbled, but marched onward. He hadn't heard hooves or smelled a smoke from a fire, but the templars could be a mile behind him for all he knew. The further he went, the safer he would feel. Besides, he needed a warm meal.

Upon entering the town the first thing he noticed was the chantry, easily the biggest building in town and fully equipped with two hulking templars outside the massive wooden doors. Anders cursed and slipped into a crowd of townsfolk leading a cow across a bridge. Luckily the bridge led straight towards a rundown wooden building with a sign nailed outside proclaiming it Dane's Refuge.

Just as the mage began walking toward down the dirt road toward it, an old man stumbled out of the building and bent over a rickety fence outside, vomiting in the grass. He stepped around the man, who was now moaning incoherently. "Just where I want to be."

The place smelled vaguely of the farm animals outside but was filled with smiling, laughing faces. More importantly, it was warm, dry, and had a few open seats by the bar. Anders took a seat on a stool and allowed the tension to flow out of his body.

"Can I help ye?" the bartender inquired gruffly from behind an enormous brown beard.

"Yes!" Anders dug through his pockets for what little coin he had. He took about half of it out and laid it on the bar. "What will this buy me?"

"An ale and a cuppa Magda's famous stew."

"How's the stew?' Anders asked.

"Tastes like piss."

"Eh, I'll take it," he shrugged, pushing the silvers to him. He'd been saving up for weeks—selling portions of his dinner for bronze coins, even trading his books to the merchant that visited the tower in exchange for money. It wasn't like he was going to be reading that old Brother Genitivi book on dwarves anyway. The plan was to buy some inconspicuous clothing and maybe a knife so he could hunt and skin his own food…as disgusting as that sounded. But tonight was a night for celebration. He'd reached his first town without getting caught—and his stomach was groaning for food.

The bartender presented him with his drink and he nearly gulped it all down in one swig. A high, bell-like laugh rang out next to him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A girl sat a stool away, glancing over at him with raised, ginger brows. Her lips were painted a rather obnoxious shade of red and her fiery hair flowed down to her ample chest, barely covered by a faded rose dress.

"Maker, you do love me," he muttered aloud in amusement, staring up at the ceiling as if His face were to break through and wink at him.

The girl just giggled more, looking him up and down. "You don't look like you're from around here."

Anders grinned and slid onto the stool closer to her. "That's because I'm not."

She grinned right back. "So where are you from, stranger? Antiva?"

The mage laughed. "Kilarney," he lied, quickly thinking of a place on his map.

The girl gasped. "You're so close to Denerim. What are you doing in _Lothering_?" she demanded, her face twisting into a grimace at the mention of the small village. As if on cue, the bartender plopped down Anders' stew in front of him and she stared down at the brown slop in horror.

"Well, you see. I'm the son of the Arl there," he explained between shoving spoonfuls of the stew in his mouth. The bartender was right, it did taste like piss. "But I don't like to stay at the estate for more than a few months at a time. I'm a bit of a traveler."

The bartender looked over at them and rolled his eyes, but the girl nearly squealed with delight. "Where are you going? Do you have a carriage outside?"

"No, no. I just have my horse, ah…Mr. Wiggums," he lied. What kind of nobleman didn't have a horse at least? "And I haven't decided yet. I'm just going wherever the road takes me…" _Mostly because I can't read a bloody map,_ he thought.

The girl looked up in amazement as she twirled a copper lock of hair around her pale fingers. "That's so…adventurous. I've always wanted to go to Orlais, actually. My name is Orlesian," she boasted. "Lisette."

"Lovely name for a lovely girl."

"What's yours?"

"Greagoir," Anders answered. "I know, my father came up with it. Always was a bit of an arse…"

"Well, I like it" Lisette mused. "Now, tell me what it's like to be a nobleman."

Anders shrugged. "It's a bit boring. The estate gets cramped. You can't really go where you please…" The mage gulped down the rest of the stew, drinking it straight from the bowl. Then he coughed. "Maker, that's bad. But anyway, there's also dozens of rules. Maker forbid you even rip a page out of a library book or keep one of the mousers as a pet…" He found himself swinging his arms about passionately and realized his voice had grown louder. "Ah, but other than that it's great."

Her expression crumbled. "Oh. I see…"

Anders sidled closer, pushing Circle Tower from his mind. "But enough about that. Have I mentioned you look like an Orlesian singer I once saw in Highever.

Okay, maybe it was a courier at the tower, not a singer in Highever, and she had a lisp, not an Orlesian accent, but she was still pretty damn cute, and Lisette did look a bit like her. Same hair anyway…But it didn't matter. The girl was sold.

A smile spread across her face. "Greagoir, I need to go outside to cool off. It's far too hot in here. Care to join me?"

"It would be my pleasure." He said, with an easy smile. _Let's just hope she stops calling me Greagoir soon…_

They'd barely made it past the tavern before she was on him, arms snaked around his neck, warm mouth covering his. Anders nearly fell over in surprise. It had been months since he'd been with anyone. One of the many problems with living in a secluded tower are the limited romantic options, and after landing in solitary for a few weeks after his last escape attempts, the other mages treated him like a pariah. He might as well have been a blood mage. Lisette may have been a bit vapid, but she was something, someone; hot breath on his neck and warm skin against his.

"Will you take me to your estate?" she breathed between planting kisses on his neck. "I'd need a new dress, of course, but it's not as if you're poor or something," Lisette giggled.

Anders looked up at her, unsure of what to say. The more he thought about it, the worse it actually felt being with the girl. However, a flash of silver in the corner of his eye made him break free of her embrace.

"Hey," she pouted, but Anders wasn't listening. The templars were huddled together across the bridge he'd crossed after passing the chantry. He recognized one of them, Rowley from the tower. _Shit._

"Sorry love," he murmured. "Got to run." With that he crouched low and ran to the shadow of some nearby buildings and off toward the dark tree line on the outskirts of the village.

"Hey! Greagoir!" Lisette stared after him for a moment before blowing a stray piece of copper hair out of her eyes. "Ugh. Whatever."


End file.
